


in unlikely places

by Another_Freak1258



Category: Iron Man (Movies), Marvel Cinematic Universe, Spider-Man (Tom Holland Movies), The Avengers (Marvel Movies)
Genre: Adorable Peter Parker, Alternate Universe - Fantasy, Angst, But He Gets Better, Cruel Tony Stark, Eggs, Enemies to Friends to Lovers, Faun Peter Parker, Lonely Tony Stark, M/M, Mildly Dubious Consent, Naga Tony Stark, Pheromones, Threats of Violence, Threats of Vore, Vore, i hope you appreciate all the snake references, other well-known marvel characters, snake venom, tags will change
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-02-20
Updated: 2020-06-22
Packaged: 2021-02-27 18:48:29
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 5
Words: 17,260
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22810504
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Another_Freak1258/pseuds/Another_Freak1258
Summary: Peter is a young faun who belongs to a relatively prosperous herd. With mating season just around the corner, Peter receives some anonymous courting gifts, which turn out to be from Flash. Peter is overwhelmed with embarrassment and runs off into the forest. It’s there he meets one of the most dangerous predators in the land, a naga.
Relationships: Peter Parker/Tony Stark
Comments: 38
Kudos: 243





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> hello! follow me on Twitter if ya dig my shit: https://mobile.twitter.com/Denny_Trash1258

Usually, herds stay far away from unfamiliar territories. Most colonial creatures have survived for so long by sticking to this tradition. Whether it be related to harvest or safety, there’s a reason they set up shop in the first place, obviously, so why deviate? These opinions are all well and good, Peter thinks, but there’s a big problem the elders who conceptualized them ignored.

Some creatures aren’t colonial. There’s no guarantee someone won’t infiltrate  _their_ territory.

“I can’t believe this!” Peter raves, him and his aunt far enough away from the herd for the small faun to feel comfortable shouting. “What happens if it’s one of them next? Is that what it’s going to take?”

May rubs her hands together with a pensive expression, ready to pull Peter into a hug as soon as he gives the right physical cue. “I know, Peter. But,” she pauses, making sure she has Peter’s full attention before continuing. “Have you considered Betty may have just... Ran off? Met someone?”

Peter looks at her gobsmacked, in disbelieve that May even has an inkling of doubt in his theory. “So you think I’m crazy too. Great.” 

“You need to be reasonable, dear.” May shakes her head. “It isn’t like I don’t worry about the same things, especially as you’ve gotten older, but if it was something. . . Dangerous, don’t you think more people would have gotten hurt by now?”

To be fair, it has been weeks since Betty’s disappearance, but that brings Peter no comfort. He knows something happened to her, but no one believes him. Besides Ned, anyway.

“I don’t know,” Peter says honestly, emotionally exhausted. “But I do know she didn’t run away. I know she wasn’t very far away from the rest of us when she disappeared.”

May shakes her head again. “I’m sorry,” she says, knowing Betty was one of Peter’s friends and that’s why he feels so strongly about this. Peter allows her to rope him in for a hug. He feels better afterwards.

They return together to the main grove the herd hangs around. Peter is having a hard time maintaining his upset feelings at this point because the grove is gorgeous this time of the year. The grass is a lush green, the air is just on the right side of warm, and the flowers are in full bloom. One of Peter’s favorite activities is going on small excursions to discover or revisit different types of flowers. He’s even got a working theory on why there’s so many different kinds of flowers after conducting a handful of experiments the past few years. 

May is aware of Peter’s love of flowers, so while he’s lost in thought she bends down to collect a fistful of daisies. She taps his shoulder to get attention, arranging the white flowers carefully on his budding horns once Peter understands her goal. Peter can’t help but preen once she’s finished. 

“Thank you, May,” he says softly, kissing her cheek in gratitude.

She nods, feeling as though she’s done her part in cheering up her nephew. “Go have fun, Dear. Try and forget all this interloper business, okay?”

Peter looks at the ground and nods, bounding over to where he sees Ned munching on a peach next to MJ. Peter isn’t planning on letting this whole thing go, but it’s clear that talking to May about it isn’t going to accomplish much. And considering that speaking with the herd elders only earned him a dismissal. . . Peter hopes, for the herds sake, he’s wrong about this whole thing. 

Another week passes without any incidents, and Peter’s warming up to the idea that maybe Betty really did run off to be with somebody outside of the herd. After all, breeding season is quickly approaching, so it’s reasonable to think her suitor was just so charming that she abandoned them. Ned’s rightfully heartbroken, because their courting seemed to be heading in the right direction, but he was ultimately left in the dust. It’s a truly awful thing, to be led on like that.

Peter has been receiving courting gifts for the past few days, much to his surprise. He doesn’t think he’s ugly by any means, but there’s certainly more beautiful fauns in the herd than him.

“Do you really not know?” Peter presses, desperate to find out the identity of his secret admirer. Traditionally, the suitor presents the gifts in person, so this is most unusual. And unattractive, if Peter’s being honest. He isn’t sure if he wants a suitor that isn’t brave enough to give courting gifts in person.

“Dude, if I knew, I’d tell you! You know how bad I am at keeping secrets.” Ned definitely has a point there.

“You are horrendous,” MJ agrees.

Peter wonders if it’s MJ who has been giving him the courting presents. It would make sense, but he hopes it isn’t because he’s not sure he’d accept her advances. 

MJ is remarkably perceptive, so she comments, “It’s not me, lover boy. I got my eye on that gal over there.” They all turn to where MJ’s pointing, eyes landing on a lounging Gwen a few yards away. 

“Aw!” Peter squeals. “You guys would be so cute!”

“Parker, keep your voice down!” MJ hisses, a faint blush appearing on the apples of her cheeks. “I don’t have anything to give her yet.”

Ned leans over and takes the bouquet of flowers that mysteriously appeared next to Peter after he took a nap earlier. “It must be somebody who knows you well.” 

Peter sighs, eyes darting over to the other fauns in earshot. Not that he’s holding back any secrets, but. . . It’s an embarrassing topic! Kind of exciting, maybe. Peter would still rather have someone court him in person, though. “I’m worried it’s going to be someone I’m not interested in at all,” he confides. 

“Yeah, what if they’re really ugly,” Ned remarks, setting the bouquet back down.His attention is drawn towards Flash, who has slowly been creeping up behind Peter as the conversation has progressed. Being that Flash is generally an asshole, Ned isn’t around him much, but he can safely say he’s never seen this expression on Flash’s face before. He looks. . . Nervous. 

Peter is unaware of the presence behind him. “That doesn’t matter much to me. But it’s just. . . Kind of cowardly, don’t you think? I mean, why wouldn’t they just give them to me in person?” MJ recognizes Flash’s expression because she wore the same one two days ago when she first attempted to approach Gwen. She quickly understands who exactly has been giving Peter these anonymous courting gifts and tries to silently signal for him to stop talking. Peter is ignorant.

“And sure, I love flowers, but daffodils? They’re not even trying to impress me,” Peter scoffs.

Flash frowns at the carefully arranged yellow weeds, an unpleasant, heavy feeling pushing against his chest as he hears Peter’s critiques. A month ago he’d overheard Peter remarking how daffodils should be considered flowers and that they’re trying their best.

“I’m not easy,” Peter jokes, looking up at MJ and Ned only to discover them grimacing. His face furrows in confusion.

“C-Could have fooled me.”

Peter flinches in surprise before whipping around to face Flash, eyebrows trying to touch his hairline. He’s immediately on edge, as he usually is when Flash addresses him.

“You should be more grateful, Parker,” Flash huffs, sounding and looking more angry with every word he says. “That’s probably the only affection you’re ever going to get in your miserable life!”

The words hurt, even if they’re just coming from the mouth of a bully. Peter’s ears droop and he wraps his arms around his tummy. 

“You should know that nobody’s going to be mating you this season,” Flash reveals. “I gave you all that crap! I thought someone as hideous as you would appreciate a little attention, even though nobody in their right mind would ever lay a finger on you.”

Despite being hesitant about the ordeal, Peter is deeply hurt. He really thought somebody liked him. He thought somebody wanted to  mate him. How naive he’d been to think anybody would want that from someone like Peter. . . 

MJ is firing back quickly with something most definitely wittier than anything Flash could ever say, but Peter can’t hear her. His ears feel like they’re full of cotton and his eyes burn. Peter turns back around to put his back to Flash, but this causes him to examine the bright yellow laying at his feet. Seeing the them, dandelions or not, makes him feel unappreciative and stupid.

Close to sobbing, Peter mindlessly takes off towards the more secluded groves. If you go far enough, they give way to the forest, which the faun is pretty familiar with because of his flower-hunting hobby.

“ _Peter_! ”

Peter ignores his friends calling out for him. He’s trying to tune Flash out, and the only way to do that is to tune everything out. So he continues romping further and further away from the herd, nothing else on his mind. It’s much more difficult to navigate than usual. Even excluding his blurry vision, all the faun wants to do is collapse on the soft grass and cry until he feels better about things. 

Eventually, the need to self-soothe becomes stronger than the urge to get away. Peter’s gotten himself decently deep in the forest at this point, but not dangerous deep. He gracelessly plops down on a flowerbed, so upset he completely disregards hurting them. Peter releases a shuttering breath into the dirt before crying out.

Logically, Peter knows he’s young, but he still has the insane thought that he’ll be alone forever. Nobody will ever love him. He’s never going to find true love like Aunt May and Uncle Ben did. 

Peter cries for awhile facedown, but heaves himself upright after gaining enough mental strength. He rubs his eyes as he sniffles, making an effort to calm down. He’s handling this like a baby! 

Nearby, there’s the soft sound of something heavy hitting the underbrush. Peter makes a small noise of trepidation, more easily frightened than he would have been in different circumstances. He thinks he sees something red move in his field of vision, but can’t be too sure.

“Um, hello?” Peter rasps, clearing his throat when he hears his own voice. He squints at the bush he thought the red glided behind. “He—“ Turning to look the opposite direction, Peter screams when he comes face-to-face with a stranger. 

Before the faun’s fight or flight can tell him to book it, the stranger grabs his wrist and by consequence they make eye contact again. “Wait,” a deep voice instructs the second their pupils lock. For whatever reason, Peter listens.

They’re so close that Peter can only really see the stranger’s face and upper chest. The first thing Peter identifies is the brown eyes he’s staring at. They’re watching him with anticipation. Maybe to see if he’ll continue to obey? Why is. . . Peter obeying? 

Letting out a series of whines, Peter squirms in the stranger’s grip, not understanding why he can’t work up the nerve to escape. He doesn’t feel physically stuck.

“Oh, don’t be afraid,” the stranger says with a placating tone. Peter directs his attention to the rest of his face. The stranger has wispy brown hair and tan skin. He does have a strange beard, though. Nothing about him looks bizarre other than that. “I didn’t mean to scare you so bad, but I couldn’t figure out an appropriate way to introduce myself considering. . .” Peter relaxes a bit as the stranger goes on, especially when his wrist is released. The faun immediately wipes away the tears that picked back up when the stranger appeared.

Peter watches the stranger gesture towards his obviously sad state. He relaxes further. “O-Oh. . .”

The stranger squints minutely at him, considering. He has the smallest smile on his lips. “My name is Tony, pleased to meet your acquaintance.”

Shifting nervously, Peter returns the courtesy. “Peter,” he sniffles, much to his embarrassment. “I’m sorry.” He continues wiping his face.

“Don’t be, Peter. What’s got you so sad?”

Peter isn’t a very outgoing faun when it comes to being social. Ned and MJ aren’t his only friends, of course, but they’re his closest. He only really confides in them, much less complete strangers. He isn’t rude—or brave—enough to say that out loud, but his expression must do the job for him.

Tony leans back to give Peter more personal space, but he’s still situated at an angle that Peter doesn’t think can be comfortable. Like he’s wrapped around the tree they’re under. Holding a position like that is nothing to sneeze at.

“Right. I’d understand if you didn’t wanna talk about it, just considering you infringed on my territory I thought I s-should go check out what was going on.”

Frowning, Peter loses any leftover tension as the feeling he’s done something wrong cascades over him. “Oh! I’m so sorry, I wasn’t—“ Peter struggles to explain himself with so many different hormones lingering within him. “I just had to get away, I didn’t realize this was someone’s home.” 

Tony reaches out and rubs Peter’s back. Fauns are fairly tactile, so the touch is soothing rather than invasive. “I hear where you’re coming from, kid. But I didn’t ssee. There must be a herd nearby, huh?”

He didn’t hear it as clearly the first few times, but it sounds like Tony has some kind of lisp. He struggles with the ‘s’  sound. “Not too far,” Peter concedes, slumping. “We won’t overlap with your. . . ?” The potential words are left unsaid: flock, group, cluster, among a plethora of other categories. 

Smile broadening, Tony shakes his head. “Nah. Just me.”

An icy chill runs up Peter’s spine. Something in his hindbrain is going off like an alarm. “Oh,” he whispers. They simply stare at each other for a few moments. “I should probably get back.” 

Tony’s eyes become hooded. “Aren’t you hungry?”

Peter feels very uncomfortable. Something brushes against his left ankle but he’s too afraid to look away from Tony to check what it might be. “I should go back,” he repeats timidly. 

Tony looks Peter up and down slowly, like he’s appraising him. “You’d leave me out here all alone? After waking me up, I do believe you owe me some proper company.” 

What are you supposed to do in situations like these? Peter is trying to stay calm, but it isn’t helping him decide how to navigate this encounter. There’s clearly something unsafe about Tony. He looks nice enough, but he’s acting very creepy. The hand on Peter’s back brushes lightly against his fluffy tail. 

Peter is extremely distressed as he watches Tony. Like that will stop him from doing anything. Peter has no idea what Tony is, but just from the upper half of his body the faun can tell he’s much stronger. 

Tony finds Peter’s pale complexion endearing. “I’ve really gotten you worked up,” he laughs. “Am I really that sscary?”

The weight against Peter’s ankle moves suddenly, drawing his attention to a deep red mass slithering around his furry legs. He jumps instinctively at the sight, only prompting the mass that he recognizes as a _snake_ _tail_ to tightly wind around him with terrifying speed.

Crying once more, Peter watches as Tony backs away further. Now that they’re at a distance, Peter can see the way his chiseled abs fade into a shade of burgundy, making way for hard scales and a tail that’s so long it disappears out of Peter’s vision. 

The tail wraps around Peter more securely, manipulating his body as it pleases. Peter has never felt this acute sense of helplessness his entire life. “Please. . .” he mewls, honey-brown eyes pleading with every ounce of self-preservation he has. 

Tony comes closer, or rather, he uses his tail to bring Peter closer. He strokes the backside of his hand against Peter’s cheek. “You’re a beautiful little thing, aren’t you?” he coos.

If this is the only leverage he has, he’ll take it. Peter gives him the best doe eyes he possibly can, which isn’t hard given the situation. 

“Sweet thing,” Tony sighs, tracing the gorgeous freckles dotting the faun’s face. “Do you know what I am?”

When Peter doesn’t reply in the first few seconds, Tony’s tail tightens around him in warning, knocking the breath out of Peter. “Answer me when I ask you a question, little faun. Do you know what I am?”

“N-Naga. . .” Peter whimpers pitifully. He’s going to die. There’s no empathy in Tony’s eyes, just hunger. 

“Do you know what naga do to yummy little fauns like you?” Tony purrs. He’s always enjoyed watching his prey cry and beg. Peter is no exception, but he looks much more beautiful doing it.

In lieu of answering, Peter cries out softly. He closes his eyes tightly. Tony doesn’t squeeze him this time, enjoying playing with his freckles. Peter feels like he’s nothing but a toy. He’s never had anyone treat or talk to him this way before.

”Maybe I could keep you around for a bit longer, hm?” Tony muses, running his fingers through Peter’s thick hair and ending on the tips of his developing horns. 

The idea of postponing his death is very appealing, so Peter opens his eyes with a shutter. “You like that, little faun?” Peter isn’t viewing it as postponing his death, rather, the longer Tony waits to eat him the more time he has to potentially escape. He nods cutely. 

Tony squeezes him again just to feel Peter gasp and struggle against him. The faun looks confused, as if to say,  _what did I do wrong?_

“I can go awhile in between meals, you know.” Tony speaks as if he’s having a normal conversation, which adds to the creepy factor. “And considering I’m new to the area, I really never know when something delicious like you is going to—quite literally—fall into my lap. I could use someone to have around until I get a lay of the land. But I  _am_ awfully hungry. . .”

Peter whines nervously, watching with horror as Tony licks his lips. At any moment it feels like his jaw is going to detach and latch onto Peter. Hysterical, Peter thinks back to what Tony said earlier, sobbing in desperation, “Please don’t eat me! I - I will keep you company,  _please_! I’ll be your friend!”

Tony seems caught off guard by this promise, he’s probably never heard something like that before. Because it sounds insane. Because it  _is_ insane. While Peter’s berating himself for his poor negotiation skills, he misses the naga’s thoughtful visage. 

Recovered, Tony squeezes Peter in what he considers a playful manner. “Let’s head back to my den, little faun. The sun will be setting soon.” 


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Instead of bringing home a standby snack, Tony ends up with a lab partner. Unfortunately for Peter, not even his pretty face and even prettier brain are enough to spare him from the naga’s voracious appetite.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> this chapter contains some INTENSE vore. i didn’t really plan for it to be this way but Tony got out of control. he a hungry boy !!

With little conversation, Tony brings the faun to his home. It isn’t a particularly impressive den by naga standards, because it has a bachelor pad vibe to it. It’s made to accommodate one male naga and not a potential mate, which isn’t usually the case. Some naga mate for life, some are polyamorous. Tony has been in his fair share of breeding balls, but isn’t in the market for a lifelong commitment like a relationship. Therefore, he’s made his new den more functional than flashy. It’s filled with his projects and basic creature comforts.

Peter hasn’t said anything or made much of a fuss during their trek. Tony wishes he could watch the faun’s face as they finally reach their destination, but his anatomy doesn’t allow it. 

Entering the mouth of the cave, Tony moves leisurely around to stuff the entirety of his large body inside. A majority of his tail coils on top of his bed, a mossy lump on the ground that’s marginally more comfortable than rock. 

Tony would normally head straight for one of his projects at this time of day, maybe grab some kind of fruit from the trees outside, but the novelty of Peter holds his attention. Peter tenses up when he realizes the naga is getting closer to him. Tony’s face is only a foot away.

Peter is _gorgeous_. Tony’s seen and eaten faun before, but this one is. . . Ethereal. He has delicate features and is very petite for a buck. If it weren’t for the growths on his head, Tony could easily mistake Peter for a girl. He’s never seen horns that are just staring to sprout like this. Peter must be fairly young. As the naga strokes the horns, Peter flinches in pain.

After a short pause in his touch, Tony pinches the base of Peter’s right horn which elicits a whine. They must be tender since they’re still coming in. 

Below the horns are Peter’s soft ears. Tony unwittingly discovers when he caresses them in a certain way, Peter flicks them unconsciously. Tony does it again and again, much to the faun’s dismay.

Cupping the supple flesh of Peter’s cheeks, Tony examines the abundance of freckles that paint his pale skin. They’re delightful, too. As if some deity took the time to place each freckle in the perfect spot. Suddenly, warm wetness pools above Tony’s thumbs and he realizes Peter is crying once again. 

Tony meets the faun’s watery gaze. The tears accentuate the brown-gold of his eyes. “Nobody ever get this close, darling?” 

A flash of anger ripples across Peter’s face.  _Like that’s the problem_ , he’d spit if Tony wasn’t a predator. Tony is almost disappointed when he doesn’t. “No need to be sshy.” His tongue flicks the air after the last word, tasting. Peter is considerably aromatic after his flee into the forest, and that doesn’t consider how long it’s been since he’s bathed. The heady smell of prey makes Tony drool. 

“What are you going to do to me?” Peter asks warily. Insanely, the longer Tony waits to eat him, the more Peter wishes he’d just get it over with. 

“I’m not a liar. I really do want to have fun with you.” Tony pinches Peter’s cheek, making the skin flush pink. “It’s been too long since I’ve enjoyed myself. Which is a bad habit of mine—all work and no play. But I’d have to be a damn fool to not savor you.”

Although he asked, Peter isn’t comforted by that answer. Being tortured is probably far worse than being killed outright. The faun has never had to consider thoughts like this before, though. 

That blasted tongue shoots out of Tony’s mouth again, close but not touching. ”Are you going to be good for me, little faun?” 

Peter feels absolutely sick. “Uh-huh,” he whispers. 

“Yeah, I think you and I are gonna get along just fine.” 

Peter wakes up the next day sore and hungry. As his eyes flutter open, he comes to the realization that yesterday wasn’t a terrible nightmare. He’s stuck in a naga’s coils, awaiting a death that whether it happens today or not, is inevitable. 

For all his squirming, Tony doesn’t wake up. Peter watches him continue to sleep peacefully, like there isn’t a faun twisting and turning in his unyielding grasp. If anything, Tony unconsciously squeezes him tighter. Peter looks at Tony’s face and is struck by how unthreatening and sweet he looks asleep. 

Loud moans ricochet off the sharp cave walls. Peter is very hungry. His stomach doesn’t care about the situation they’re in. “Tony.” When his ginger whispering doesn’t awake the naga, Peter continues to repeat his name.

Tony grumbles. He looks surprised to see Peter as if he’s also forgotten last night’s events. “Did I. . . Did I fall asleep?” 

Peter looks at him strangely. What kind of question is that? “Yes. . .?” 

Unknown to Peter, Tony often struggles with sleeping at all, let alone twice in one day. He spends most of his nights tinkering instead of sleeping. Capturing Peter was exciting, but not exciting enough to tire him out. How the hell did he sleep so well? 

The naga’s thoughts are interrupted when Peter’s tummy growls again. The faun blushes with embarrassment. The topic of food and hunger isn’t something he wants brought up for obvious reasons. “Feeling peckish, little faun?” And just like that, Tony’s back to his patronizing attitude. Peter stares back nervously. 

“Can I have something to eat? Please?” 

Tony feels his own hunger pains. It’s been weeks since gulping down that slender faun he came across. Peter might be cute, but he’s food. Keeping him around until he becomes boring sounds fun, but so does eating him. It would soothe the ache in his belly, anyway. Tony tastes the air, moaning. Peter smells  _delicious_. 

Tony doesn’t look like he’s pondering Peter’s request. He looks like he’s thinking of having a breakfast of his own. The faun whimpers and shakes his head. “Don’t eat me, please. I don’t need any food,” he says, thinking maybe Tony will spare him if Peter eliminates any inconveniences. 

“If only you knew how good you smell,” Tony purrs. He buries his face in the column of Peter’s throat, inhaling and licking as he pleases. When he pulls away, the skin is raw from the rub of his beard and littered with hickeys. “Mm. . .” 

Peter watches in horror as Tony licks his fangs. How did he ever overlook those?! They’re huge! 

When drool dribbles onto Peter’s chest, he’s filled with ultimate panic. This can’t be it! There must be some way to convince Tony to wait longer, just a little bit longer. The anticipation is scary, but Peter isn’t ready to die yet. He’s so young. 

The faun thinks back to their meeting, when Tony’s hand skirted down to his tail. In a moment of desperation, Peter closes the short distance between them and kisses Tony’s cheek. 

The action brings Tony’s hunger-driven delirium to an abrupt halt.  _What the hell?_ he thinks. 

“Please!” Peter pleads hysterically. “I really don’t wanna die. . .” He presses another innocent kiss to Tony’s cheek. “Don’t eat me.”

Tony places his hands hesitantly on Peter’s shoulders and moves him further back. The faun looks emotionally wrecked, which isn’t anything new. It’s really the only look Tony’s familiar with. But that isn’t what’s disturbing him, it’s Peter’s actions. Never before has prey tried to haggle using their body. Tony  was vocal about his adoration of the faun’s body, so this was Peter’s last ditch attempt to save his own life. It doesn’t sit right with the naga. He’s devoured helpless, pitiful creatures like Peter before with no issue, no remorse or regret, but realizing what the faun is trying to persuade him with. . . Tony feels bad. Wrong. 

Peter sees the change in Tony’s demeanor but misses his internal conflict. He feels premature relief, hope. Still fearful of becoming a meal, the faun closes his eyes and smooches Tony’s lips. It’s just the same as the other kisses, fast and dry, but the reasoning behind it makes the naga feel. . . Evil. 

Tony gawks at the faun. This is so far outside of his normal experience with fearful prey that he’s actually reminded of another naga. Like Peter is comparable. Equal. 

Frowning, the naga avoids Peter’s eyes. “Uh,” he coughs awkwardly, wiping his mouth with the back of his hand. “You don’t need to do that.” 

Peter makes an imploring, worried noise. “I can be useful,” he promises. “I’ll do anything. Please.” 

Normally Tony would love the sound of that, but the implications bother him. Is he becoming soft? What does it matter if this sweet faun is willing to whore himself if it means he might live another few hours? 

With his tail pressed firmly against Peter’s body, Tony easily feels the sensation of the faun’s stomach growling. The kid deserves to be thrown a bone. 

“Let’s go get you something,” the naga murmurs, taking Peter outside without another word. There’s a few peach trees nearby that Tony heads straight for. After picking a few fruits, Tony allows the faun to leave his coils as they snack on peaches together. If he tries to escape, they both know he won’t get very far.

Peter is starving, but still makes an effort to eat politely. He’s walking on eggshells because he’s seen with his very eyes that the littlest thing can change Tony’s mood. 

Between the fleshy sweetness filling Peter’s tummy and the warm sun on his face, it’s almost possible to forget he’s being held captive by a ferocious monster. 

“Thank you,” Peter says after his fourth peach, burping cutely. He’s rubbing his sticky fingers against the soft pudge of his belly. Tony imagines having that swell of flesh push against his throat. That would be much more satisfying than these fruits. . . “Did you. . . eat the pits?” 

“Huh?”

The faun points to his own pile of pits before gesturing to Tony’s lack thereof. Tony frowns. “You mean the sseed? Of course.”

Peter scrunches up his nose. “You’re not supposed to eat that part!” he exclaims in amusement. 

The pit adds weight to the meal, so Tony disagrees. He explains that eating around a peach’s core would be irritating because it’d take longer to become full. 

“But that’s a good thing,” Peter chirps, more relaxed Tony’s ever seen him. The natural sugar must be putting him in an instinctively playful mood. “The longer it takes, the more time you have to enjoy it.” 

Although he could survive solely off of fruit and other plants, Tony usually opts for large game because the meal lasts longer and fills him immediately. Then he won’t have to deal with hunger pains while he’s trying to work. As a naga, he instinctively enjoys hunting and devouring smaller creatures than him, but sometimes it’s more of a chore than anything else. Rhodey and Pepper are constantly bugging him about how he sometimes ignores his bodily needs. 

Tony reaches out with his tail and takes hold of the faun. “I think you’ve enjoyed enough.” He squeezes Peter, making him burp involuntarily.

The rest of the day is honestly boring. Peter isn’t at ease in Tony’s presence, even if he is getting a bit used to him, but being forced to stare at a cave wall all day will drive anybody to boredom. Tony’s hunched over a large work station that’s covered in paper and metal. Whatever he’s doing looks very interesting and Peter would love to ask him all about it! Alas, the naga started ignoring him hours ago, not responding to Peter’s questions or even his own name. He’s immersed in. . . Whatever he’s working on.

From what Peter can tell, Tony is an inventor. Or maybe an engineer. Both? A lot of the trinkets scattered around the cave look industrial in nature, which is not something you see outside of human civilization. Peter’s heard humans build large metal towers that puff putrid black smoke into the air, so he’s not interested in anything human-related, but Tony’s clearly fascinated by their area of expertise, machinery. 

There’s also sketches laying haphazardly around the den. The closest one to Peter is for some kind of heat-producing unit. It looks. . . Really cool. 

Peter’s still really bored, though. His arms aren’t pinned to his sides like they have been the last few times, so he absentmindedly starts stroking the scales of Tony’s tail. They’re pleasantly smooth and feel tough, like even a hammer couldn’t chip away at one. Suddenly, the tail holding Peter quivers. Peter looks over at Tony, feeling bad for breaking his focus. “Sorry.”

The naga rubs his face tiredly. “I _ss_ uppose it’s time to get you dinner.” Tony’s thankful he doesn’t need to eat as often as other creatures. It’s inconvenient and tedious! 

Eating peaches as a meal for the second time in one day isn’t ideal, but Peter gratefully accepts them because Tony’s still going out of his way to do this. The naga has been much kinder to him since he gave those kisses. 

As Peter eats, Tony returns to his work bench. Peter is situated closer now, so he can see what the naga is looking at. “I don’t know what I’m missing,” he mutters, frustrated.

Peter has to look between the prototype and blueprint for several minutes to catch on to what Tony is trying to accomplish. It looks like Tony designed this device himself, so Peter is hesitant to offer advice, but maybe if he does Tony will come to bed. He’s been working all day! “Maybe you should try a copper plate instead? Won’t that work better as a conductor?” 

Tony side eyes the faun, taken aback by Peter’s input. He looks back over to the model and, sure enough, is fairly sure Peter’s discovered the issue. “Damn.”

The faun yawns. “It looks really neat, though.”

Invigorated by this breakthrough, Tony shakes Peter and gives him a better view of the paper. “What do you think about a plant-based fuel source? I’ve been trying to synthesize. . .” 

It ends up being a really, really long night. 

Somehow, they end up falling into a fairly domestic routine. Tony gives him plenty of fruit to eat and they work on his projects together. The naga is endlessly impressed by Peter’s ability to contribute. He’s never had a partner before, and it makes the process more enjoyable when you have someone to assist and bounce ideas off of. Meanwhile, Peter’s impressed that Tony hasn’t eaten him yet. He’s avoided the topic the past couple days even when it was an opportune moment to make a joke about consuming the faun. Not that Peter’s complaining, he’s just not stupid. The other shoe will drop eventually. Peter knows Tony must be starving at this point. 

As the naga is plying him with nectarines, Peter starts explaining his theory about cross-pollination and hybrid plants. Tony listens avidly, only interrupting him to insist Peter eat more. 

“You’re really crazy about flowers, aren’t you?”

Peter smiles, thinking about soft petals and the subtle smell of sweetness. “I guess I am.” He notices Tony isn’t enjoying any fruit of his own. “Flowers have an element of mysticism to them. Your gizmos are elegant, of course, but they’re. . .  exhaustible . Once you understand how to make them work, the novelty disappears. I’m sure you understand, since you move on so quickly after finishing a project.” 

Tony’s never know anyone with even half of his curiosity and ingenuity. Mostly, people have complained or downplayed his passion for engineering. He’d come to terms with the fact he’d never have the opportunity to collaborate with someone, which makes everything harder. Harder to gather resources, harder to manifest ideas, harder to be innovative. But with Peter around, things are different. Tony was originally keeping him around for amusement, but the faun’s become more of a friend than a plaything. The naga is quickly becoming fond of Peter. Which is. . . Very concerning. 

The longer Tony waits to eat the faun, the more emotionally attached he’ll become. But even after acknowledging this, the thought of ending Peter’s life is discouraging. Ugh! Since when is he a sucker for a sweet face and doe eyes? Peter is  _food_. 

Peter is having similar thoughts. On one hand, he misses May and the herd terribly. May is most likely out of her mind with worry, too stubborn to accept the fact Peter’s probably already dead. There’s a brief feeling of satisfaction when Peter realizes May must be thinking she was foolish for dismissing Peter’s paranoia, but it’s petty and fleeting. 

On the other hand. . . Tony is. . . Interesting. He’s a naga, for sure, but. There’s qualities about him that Peter would have never guessed. He’s an insomniac, definitely. He’s profoundly smart, if not a genius. He laughs at dumb things and eats peach pits. In the dead of night, when the naga does sleep, he’s often restless. Like he’s haunted by something. 

Tony has little quirks that make him likable. It’s made it easier to let his guard down, get comfortable in the presence of a predator. If Tony was a faun, Peter would hope to be courted by him.

Chilly drizzle hits Peter’s nose. He startles, looking at the cloudy sky. 

Brought out of his own reverie, Tony coils around the faun, commenting faintly, “Let’s get inside.” 

Peter feels uneasy as the sun sets. Tony hasn’t been receptive to the faun’s feedback tonight, going as far as to situate Peter where he spent his first night in the den instead of allowing him near the workbench. It’s like the naga is upset with him, which doesn’t make sense because Peter hasn’t done anything wrong. 

To make amends, the faun pets Tony’s tail. The action earns Peter a suffocating squeeze that makes him cough and whine. Peter is careful not to move or speak afterwards. His only comfort is the downpour of rain outside, which is soothing despite the situation. 

_This is is_ , Peter muses morbidly.  _I’m going to die soon._

Having been going on two days without rest, the naga starts to doze off deep into the night. Peter’s tired, but he’s interested in seeing if Tony will come to bed or not. In spite of his best efforts, Tony falls asleep at his workbench. This is normally the part where Peter gently coaxes him to the mossy rock, but the faun is recognizing a window of opportunity. 

Alert as ever, Peter watches the naga’s slow inhales and exhales, wanting to make sure he’s truly unconscious. When Tony doesn’t stir, the faun begins to carefully wiggle out of the loose coils he’s trapped in.

Although the odds are in Peter’s favor, he’s unused to feeling such intense adrenaline. It takes effort to be patient. He’s anticipating his squirming to trigger Tony’s tail to tighten instinctively any second. 

Peter must climb over the red coils in order to leave the den, a feat that will require more luck than skill. So, _so_ slowly , he navigates across with no little amount of fear. Periodically, the faun will glance at Tony’s face, growing more optimistic when the naga remains asleep.

After what felt like hours, Peter is officially past Tony. He fights the urge to celebrate, knowing he isn’t out of the woods yet. Literally.  _Now what?_ Peter deflates as he listens to the raging storm outside. 

Understandably, the faun was too distraught to pay attention to where Tony was leading them when he was first brought to this cave. Peter doesn’t have a bad memory, but it’s difficult to recall directions when the possibility of an angry naga waking up is looming over his head. Restless, Peter comes to the conclusion that pretty much wherever he ends up will be safer than where he currently is, so with light feet he exits the cave.

The rain hitting his skin is a liberating sensation. Peter looks back at the mouth of the cave once before picking a vaguely familiar direction and taking off into the darkness.

Peter isn’t a nocturnal creature, so he can really only see every few seconds when lightening flashes across the sky. He was terrified of powerful storms such as this one, once upon a time, but being kidnapped by a naga has really put a lot of things in perspective. 

As he soldiers on, the faun trips and stumbles, then stumbles some more. Peter travels for what feels far and loses a lot of his tension. Now he’s more concerned with finding his way home. It’s impossible to orient himself in these conditions, and the thought weighs on him now that he isn’t in immediate danger.  _Maybe I can stop somewhere and wait for daybreak_ , he thinks.

As fortune would have it, the faun runs into a tree with a generous canopy to shield him from the rain. Peter smiles with joy and snuggles up against the roots of the tree with the intent to remain until it’s just bright enough to see. He wraps his arms around himself and shivers. Without adrenaline, Peter is starting to really feel the cold. He preoccupies himself by thinking of May, what he’s going to tell her. They’re moving with or without the herd; this area is no longer safe.

Time passes. The rain lets up as the storm moves further away. Unfortunately, it’s still too dark to see much of anything, due to the clouds. It’s easier to hear, however, without the boom of thunder directly above him. Leaves are rustling in the wind, branches are snapping under pressure, and someone is panting nearby. Peter’s spine erects in fear when he places the unexpected noise. 

A bolt of lightening flashes without noise, illuminating the livid form of Tony a few yards away. “ _Peter_ ,” he hisses, fading into the darkness a heartbeat later.

Peter’s barely gotten to his feet when Tony snatches him up with his tail, swiftly bringing the faun forward. Tony’s squeezed him on many occasions, but it was only for a few moments. Now, the naga is holding him with a smothering, unyielding grip. It’s so terrible that Peter isn’t sure if he’s weeping because of panic or pain.

“Did you really think you could get away from  _me_?” Tony sounds incredibly offended. His face probably reflects the sentiment, but even this close up Peter can’t see. “You filthy little  _goat_! S-Sneaking away like a coward while I  _sss_ leep!” 

With such pressure on his chest, Peter can’t do much else than writhe and gasp pathetically for breathe. 

“So _ss_ weet until I turn my back!” Tony accuses, literally hissing as he spits out the words. Another blip of lightening grants Peter the privilege of seeing the naga’s enraged expression. It’s hard to imagine  this Tony as the same one who has nightmares, the same one who overflows with excitement when brainstorming ideas. The malicious gleam in his brown eyes is bloodcurdling. “I know now it was all a ploy. The game’s  _over_!” 

Tony’s bruising coils unclench when the faun looks close to unconsciousness. “No, no,” the naga sneers. “You’re going to be awake for this.”

Peter screams until he’s suffocated again. “Please. . . Don’t. . .” he chokes hopelessly. 

“To think I would have shown you mercy. . .” Tony scoffs, thinking of how he had been planning to poison the faun with venom before eating him, allowing Peter to die peacefully. He’s too angry to show any compassion now. “I’m going to enjoy feeling you _ss_ truggle inside me.” He focuses on the emptiness of his stomach, encouraging hunger to replace enmity. 

Keeping a firm hold on Peter, the naga unhinges his jaw. With little fanfare, Peter’s sucked expertly into his maw, kicking and screaming. 

The faun tastes  _phenomenal_. The rain washed off a lot of the dirt he’s accumulated the past few days. Tony moans in response to the flavor.

Peter can’t describe the emotions he’s experiencing as he’s being eaten. He ruts his horns against Tony’s throat in retaliation, but the naga doesn’t do so much as pause. Peter had thought of Tony’s coils as suffocating, but being gradually swallowed is a thousandfold more stifling. “ _STOP_!” he shouts into the slick chasm pulling him headfirst. “TONY, PLEASE!”

Tony rolls his eyes, continuing to shallow voraciously until only Peter’s fuzzy legs are sticking out of his mouth. The lower part rarely tastes as good as the head and torso, and Peter’s no exception. The naga relishes in the sensation of having his lips stretched taut around prey, throat bulging. All good things must come to an end, however. With three last gulps, Peter is devoured. 

The faun is forced to assume an awkward position inside Tony’s stomach, crying hysterically as he pushes relentlessly against the living walls containing him. It’s hard to get any purchase because everything is so slimy. 

Appetite sated, Tony slumps against the tree he found Peter taking shelter under. He cups his stomach with a content sigh. Naga are built in such a way that prey making a fuss inside them is more pleasurable than painful. And Peter’s making quite the fuss. 

“TONY! PLEASE, PLEASE LET ME OUT!” Peter cries, beating the naga’s stomach. “I’M SORRY!” When he receives no response, the faun howls in despair. 

No different than any other creature he’s eaten, Peter inevitably gives up. The soft sound of his sniveling is audible, but he isn’t throwing a fit anymore. Tony pats the skin distended from Peter’s head to offer a semblance of comfort.

Peter moves his hand so that it’s pressing against Tony’s. The naga blinks stupidly in response. Well, the kid probably doesn’t care it’s fake. Which it definitely is. Tony wouldn’t actually pity his food. That’d be. . . Ridiculous.

It won’t matter by tomorrow. Soon enough, Peter will be a vague memory and won’t be around to inspire doubts. Pushing this thought to the back of his mind, Tony gives into the primal need to sleep off his meal, and falls asleep.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> 😈 ...i know what you’re thinking, but i promise Petey will be just fine & this story will have a lovey dovey ending !


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Convinced he’s made a mistake, Tony regurgitates Peter not long after gobbling him up. Both reluctant for their own reasons, they rekindle their friendship, but with mating season in full effect, it blooms into something more special.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> this chapter includes: aftermath of vore, interspecies smut, and slight dub-con due to pheromones

Peter cries.

He is young for a faun, but still feels unaccomplished.  _What have I done with my life? What was the point of being here?_ he thinks forlornly. Peter hasn’t done much else other than experience grief and mediocre leisure. If everything is Fated, then was his whole life meant to lead up to this? Was Peter created to simply satisfy a superior creature’s passing hunger? What a pitiful, hollow life. 

Aunt May will be permanently fraught. She’s lost so many family members. Peter should have been strong enough, smart enough to live. She’s now doomed to a life of suffering because of his own stupidity. 

Peter would give anything to have a second chance. At this point, he’d be ecstatic to see even Flash again. 

Tony’s tummy is loud. Peter is surrounded by menacing groans and gurgles. He can hear the  _whoosh_ of air entering Tony’s lungs, the beating of his heart. The air is foul and hot, although breathable. Truthfully, not the most unfavorable place to die. Peter could’ve done worse. 

Whether it’s the fumes or depleting oxygen, something is making Peter’s head a fuzzy. It takes him a few minutes to attribute the strange tingly feeling he’s experiencing to anything, but as it grows stronger, his hysteria returns. Peter’s vomited before; he has a basic understanding of stomach acid. He's being digested.

“ _No_!” Peter blubbers. “Tony, please! I’m sorry for leaving! I’m sorry for being mean to you!  _Let me out_!”

Tony’s food coma is cut short by Peter’s renewed movement. He blinks dozily before remembering  ~~ who ~~ what he’s eaten. 

Peter is able to recognize when the naga wakes up. He pleads hopefully, “Tony, I’m so sorry! I don’t wanna die. . . _Please_ , let me out! I won’t ever leave you again, I swear! I will do whatever you want!”

No longer in the state of anger he was when he devoured Peter, Tony is regretful. He doesn’t respond, just listens with a conscious that grows guiltier with every word. Peter’s desperate struggling and increasingly despondent pleas incite sorrow, not pleasure. Usually this entire process is profoundly pleasurable, so why is it different now? What makes Peter different from any other creature he's eaten?

Peter tries to ignore how the tingly sensation is becoming more uncomfortable. “Without me, there will be nobody to put you to bed. Nobody to hold up your notes or - or sketches. . .” the faun recalls what Tony used him for. “Nobody to pet. . . ?”

Tony’s heart bursts at the hesitant proclamation.  _Why does he have to be so fucking cute?_ the naga thinks. Maybe it would be in Tony’s best interest to spare Peter. There’s plenty of other creatures to eat, but only one Peter. That’s simple math. Tony's good at math.

Although Tony is deliberating how to retch, Peter is put down by the naga’s silence. He punches the wall of Tony’s stomach spitefully. “Fine! Well, you - you should know that I think the filtration scheme you showed me  sucks!” Peter slumps, past hope. 

Instead of being offended, Tony finds the verbal jab hilarious, endearing. He shakes with laughter, which the faun takes to be cruel. “You are a monster!” Tony stops snickering, guilt returning to the forefront of his mind. 

Tony’s spit up prey before. Not long ago, he was on his way to visit Pepper and randomly stumbled upon an unsuspecting forest nymph. Nymphs are remarkably difficult to catch, so Tony is particularly boastful when it comes to this capture. He’d swallowed the beautiful woman and gifted her to another. Pepper didn’t thank him with words, but their mating was legendary the following days. 

Oddly enough, although they’ve had sex with each other many times, Tony thinks of Pepper as more of a sister than a partner. She’d be his baby mama if he hadn’t failed so many times fertilizing her, but that’s only a minor reason—of many—they aren’t compatible as mates. 

Of course, Pepper is wonderful. In many ways, her personality balances out his. It’s been confusing and frustrating for both of them to come to the conclusion they have chemistry together, but not a future. Pepper has been the only person Tony’s remotely considered companionship with. . . Until Peter.

Tony steels himself. He cups the underside of his bulging stomach and pushes up to aid in vomiting Peter. The naga emits a serious of gagging noises until his body recognizes what he’s trying to accomplish. Fairly quickly, Peter is regurgitated onto the underbrush. 

The faun stumbles, landing on his butt. He’s soaked, fur matted and slimy. Tony watches him feel the grass frantically before looking up. “You. . .” Peter’s mouth falls shut. He doesn’t know what to say.

_What’s proper social etiquette after swallowing someone?_ “Hi,” Tony says sheepishly, tail curling in shame. 

Peter blinks. Tony goes to wrap the faun, but stops when he sees the poor creature flinching. “No. It’s okay.” 

The assurance angers Peter. He glares at Tony, huffing, “ _Okay_ ? You just - just  _ate_ me! Forgive me if I’m hesitant to be in your clutches again!” 

Nevertheless, Tony takes hold of Peter by use of his tail. The faun whines unhappily. “I thought I’d heard you  _ ss_ ay you wouldn’t leave again?” the naga remarks snidely, regretting his petty annoyance a moment later. Peter’s in the right here, he shouldn’t be sneered at. He needs to control his temper.

Peter sniffles, remembering his frenzied promises. He looks around, having a whole new appreciation for the beauty of the forest after being confined the dark, damp prison of Tony's stomach. Eventually, the naga starts to head back to the den with Peter in tow, who preoccupies himself by admiring the landscape. 

After spending a brief amount of time cleaning himself off—with Tony’s supervision—they return home. Instead of a single kind of fruit, the naga brings Peter an assortment: figs, peaches, pomegranates, and pears. The fruitfulness of this forest never ceases to amaze Peter.

Watching Peter nibble daintily reminds Tony of his lost meal. He needs to find something else to eat before the faun becomes a reasonable option again. “Peter,” he coughs. “I’m going to go find something for myself.” 

The faun isn’t diluted enough to believe he could escape a second time. He nods obediently, rolling a pomegranate in his hands around. “I’ll stay here.” 

Tony reaches out and runs his fingers through Peter’s damp locks. “I might be gone for awhile.” The words come out like a challenge. 

“I’m not a liar,” Peter mutters, irritated. 

Pulling away, the naga huffs and shakes his head at the cave ground. “Why would you want to stay?” he asks rhetorically. “I wouldn’t blame you if you tried to leave again. But. . . I don’t want you to.” 

Peter’s brow softens at Tony’s change in tone. He sounds sad. “I’ll be here when you return,” the faun affirms with conviction. 

True to his word, Peter is exactly where Tony left him hours later. The naga’s stomach is once again enlarged, which makes for an equally disturbing and funny sight. The lump isn’t moving, which Peter is thankful for. He doesn’t want to think about whoever took his place more than necessary, for his own sanity. 

Rather than heading straight for his workbench, Tony encircles Peter on the mossy rock he was lounging on. The faun mewls sweetly in response to being cuddled so thoroughly. The naga doesn’t normally hold him with such affection, like he’s something to be protected instead of hoarded. Tony is gentlemanly and thoughtful when he's sorry.

Tony nuzzles his face against Peter’s soft hair, careful to avoid the growing horns. The faun has already lost any hint of stomach bile, only smelling of fruit juice and clovers. “I’m sorry,” Tony murmurs gently. He wraps his arms more securely around Peter’s torso. 

Peter sighs. “Why?”

The question surprises Tony.  _Why indeed_. He thinks intensely, responding, “I felt bad for what I had done. I didn’t want you gone anymore.”

“You thought. . .” Peter thinks back to what the naga was yelling before devouring him. “You thought I was being disingenuous; you thought I was tricking you.”

“Weren’t you?” Tony asks without malice. His voice cracks as he whispers, “Aren’t you?”

The faun rubs his fingers against Tony’s scales. “No. I haven’t faked anything.” Peter purses his lips before continuing, “I like you, y’know? I think you’d make a great friend if you weren’t a naga.”

Tony doesn’t take any offense, given recent events. “. . .So you’ll let the kidnapping part slide, but not this?” He boops the tip of Peter’s nose with the narrow end of his tail, making the faun giggle. 

“I think the kidnapping part and the naga part coincide, actually,” Peter chirps in good nature. The smile soon falls from his face, however.

The naga is quiet for so long Peter’s almost sure he’s fallen asleep, but he eventually answers. “Would it be so horrible to be my friend?” he whispers apprehensively. 

“Friends don’t usually hold each other captive, Tony.”

Tony cringes, closing his eyes. “Nagas don’t usually pass up a meal. Or cuddle with food. So. Consider these circumstances extraordinary.” 

Peter makes an attempt to stretch, gently knocking his head against Tony’s. “I’d gladly accept this promotion to 'friend' if it means losing the classification of food.” It’s said playfully, but there’s an underlying tone of fear that makes Tony’s heart clench. 

“I’m sorry,” the naga repeats, disappointed in himself. “You aren’t food. I don’t want you to think I’m looking at you in that kind of way anymore. I don’t want to frighten you.” 

Although Tony’s spoken more honestly and open than he ever has, Peter is left unsatisfied with the naga’s declared intentions. “That’s nice, but I don’t understand. You were. . . Going to _ eat_ me. I was going to die.” He shivers. “What could've possibly change your mind?”

“There’s just something about you. When I woke up and heard you crying,” Tony pauses, searching for the right words. “It wasn’t like I had eaten a faun, it was like I had eaten a naga.” 

A few peaceful weeks pass. Together, they work on Tony’s abysmal filtration prototype as well as scour the area for flowers. The naga cleared an area of dirt to plant a flowerbed, and Peter couldn’t be more pleased with the outcome. The uprooted plants took to the new soil beautifully, despite the direct sunlight. 

Peter loves to watch the bees come and play on the flowers. Bees seem to enjoy flowers just as much as Peter! Because of their shared passion, Peter has encountered many bees in his lifetime. Other members of the herd were scared of them because they are known to harm people with their stingers, but that’s never happened to Peter. 

The faun is squinting at a yellow bloom, thinking,  _Has it moved?_ when he feels a tickle on his arm! Peter looks down to discover a bumble bee crawling on him. “Hello!” The bee continues it’s exploration, little black feet pitter-pattering. 

Peter’s voice draws Tony’s attention. “Who are you talking to?” he asks in confusion.

“This little guy!” The bee marches all the way to Peter’s pointer finger before flying off to land on a flower. “Bye-bye!”

Tony slithers over with a grin, charmed. He places a hand on Peter’s shoulder, kneading the muscle. “You are so fucking cute, kid.”

The compliment makes Peter blush. He feels stupid for doing so, but it can’t be helped. Tony is particularly handsome today, and it’s mid-mating season. The faun is a little. . . Pent up. 

Peter’s flushed face only serves to egg Tony on. He shoots out his tongue curiously, dazed when he’s met with a sweet, heady aroma. Peter smells nectarous and hebetic. The naga hasn’t noticed the change because he had been avoiding use of his tongue around Peter. If Tony were blind, he'd think an ovulating naga was in the area.

Sure enough, the quick flick of the organ catches Peter’s eye. “Is something wrong?” 

Tony hums, cupping the faun’s gorgeous face. “No,” he thinks to answer. The sun is shining flatteringly on Peter’s face, making his freckles stand out and eyes appear to be pools of warm honey. Without thinking, he leans down to rub his chin along Peter’s back soothingly. Peter's skin is nearly as soft as his pelt.

“What’re you doing?” Peter laughs, Tony’s beard hair tickling more intensely than the bumble bee’s tiny feet. 

“You  _ss_ mell really nice today,” Tony explains. Unaware of his doing so, the naga continues to flick out his tongue periodically. Peter's aroma is simultaneously the most gratifying thing he's ever smelled, while also leaving the want for more. 

Brow furrowing, Peter shuffles away and turns around to face Tony. He crosses his arms self-consciously. “What do you mean?”

Tony blinks slowly, eyes more dilated than they should be for such a sunny day. He tastes the air before remarking, “You s-smell like you’re calling out to me.” Pepper had always drove him wild with her pheromones, but the smell never made his mind so foggy. 

If possible, Peter blushes deeper. “I didn’t realize. . .” he murmurs apologetically. “It must be because it’s mating season.” Tony’s tail carefully grasps the faun and brings him closer, which isn’t unusual. What  is unusual, however, is how the naga is caressing his face. “Tony?”

Tony wears a lascivious expression. With brown eyes raking up and down Peter, the naga slithers into their den. 

Peter has never experienced mating season, so he doesn’t immediately recognize Tony’s lustful stare for what it is until the naga presses their lips together. Although out of the blue, Peter doesn’t try to end the kiss. He’s expecting Tony to do so, since he’s probably a horrendous kisser. 

When they separate, the faun squeals with joy. “That was so wonderful!” Instead of mirroring his excitement, though, Tony swoops down time lave Peter’s nipples. “O-Oh!”

Unbeknownst to Peter, Tony is being heavily influenced by the faun’s natural pheromones. Smell plays only a minor role in sexual selection in faun culture, and pheromones go mostly unnoticed even in the height of breeding season due to their mediocre sense of smell. For naga, however, pheromones are a vital aspect of their mating habits. 

“Tony?” Peter tries to get his attention away from his nipples. 

The naga licks Peter’s face affectionately, his reasoning skills and intelligence now overshadowed by the infamous one-track mind phenomenon. “Let me take care of you,” he purrs wantonly. Tony reaches down to hike one of his furry legs over a pile of red coils. “Yesssssss.” Tony’s tail moves around sensually. 

Concerned, the faun tries to look behind him to understand what exactly Tony’s attempting to ‘take care of’. “This is maybe a bit too much, don’t you think?” he says nervously. To be fair, Peter’s body isn’t listening any more than Tony’s. The faun’s small cock is poking out of his fleecy groin, pink and wet. “Oh, I’m so embarrassed!”

Tony kisses his distraught mate, dopey. “You’re beautiful,” he promises, washing away Peter’s worries. “I want you like this.” He cups the faun’s ass, squeezing the plump flesh with a groan of appreciation. His fingertips skate across Peter’s crease, finding his hole excitedly. 

“Eep!” Peter mewls in response to the sensation. He leans forward to hide his face in Tony’s neck while the naga fingers him open.

In recent years, Peter’s occasionally laid awake at night, overcome with lust. He would touch his cock to relieve the tension, but he never ventured further. He really likes how it feels! Tony’s finger is warm and callused, and not to mention bigger than his own. . . 

Peter jumps when Tony adds another finger. “Ooo,” the faun whines, waiting for the burn to pass. He’s grateful that, in response to his own arousal, his body has begun producing a useful amount of wetness to ease any possible penetration. _Fauns must just be awesome like that_ , Peter muses.

Tony removes his fingers, taking hold of Peter’s hips to position the faun. Peter doesn’t have time to mourn the lost fullness before something large and tampered is kissing his hole. 

With one swift movement, Tony mounts Peter, ignoring the faun’s cry of pain. He holds onto Peter tighter. 

“Oh, please, slow down!” Peter pleads, uncomfortable. “Tony, this hurts! You’re too big!” 

Having achieved penetration, the naga is pulled out of his hazy state of mind when he recognizes Peter's distress. Tony frowns at Peter with a shocked expression, as if he didn't mount the faun on purpose. “Peter!” he exclaims. “I. . .”

The faun sniffles, tears swimming in his eyes. Tony’s cock feels  _ginormous_! It’s practically splitting him in half! Where in the world has he been hiding such a thing? “Please, don’t move.”

Tony looks guilty, moving one of his hands to cup Peter’s face comfortingly. “I’m sorry. . . Your pheromones really got to my head, baby.”

“What’re fair-o-moans?”

Instead of answering, Tony captures Peter’s bottom lip and makes a valiant attempt to distract him from the pain while he adjusts. The faun feels Tony’s work-worn hand encase his waning arousal, coaxing the cocklet back to full hardness. 

As Tony’s rubbing his thumb in circles on the underside of Peter’s cockhead, the faun suddenly cries out, spasming. “ _Tony_!” Hot cum shoots onto both of their tummies. 

Tony preoccupies himself by kissing each of Peter’s freckles while the faun pants. Once he isn’t as sensitive, Peter takes a shot at bouncing on Tony’s cock. Tony groans in approval.

Peter looks down to get a better sense of what he’s doing only to discover Tony’s cock isn’t inside him! It’s grazing Peter’s soft manhood. But. . . Why does he feel so full? “ Um ?” Peter’s so confused.

“I’ve got two, baby,” Tony chuckles. “But I don’t think you can handle both.” He puts his lips against the shell of Peter’s ear to add huskily, “Not yet, anyway.”

Goosebumps break out across Peter’s skin and his cocklet jumps. Tony moans, “Mm, baby, squeeze my cock like that.” Peter clenches deliberately, smirking as the dangerous naga melts beneath him in pleasure. 

Peter presses a delicate kiss to Tony’s forehead. “Now let me take care of you.” He puts one hand on Tony’s shoulder and the other on his tail before starting to bounce up and down. A raunchy  _squish squish_ echoes along the cave walls along with their grunts. 

Well-adjusted, Peter’s quite happy with the size of Tony’s cock. It hits and glides against the best places, making the pit of his belly warm with arousal. 

“Tony. Tony. Tony, it feels so good,” the faun weeps. He needs to come. He needs to come again so bad! “Please, I need more! Tony!”

The naga takes charge of the situation and relieves Peter of his riding, humping forward with impressive leverage after clutching pilose hips. “You look so fucking good like this.” Tony’s tongue darts out. “I’m gonna breed you so well, sweetheart, I promise.”

Peter screams at the magnitude of his second orgasm, practically convulsing. “Ah!” A second layer of cum coats their skin, and the feeling of Peter’s warm hole fluttering around his cock pushes the naga over the edge. Tony digs his claws painfully into Peter’s sides, snarling as he comes. 

What feels like a volcanic eruption explodes inside Peter, filling him with warm gooeyness. Tony’s other cock busts as well, painting a white streak from Peter’s navel to under his nose. The faun’s pink tongue swipes above his lip curiously. Peter's face scrunches up at the flavor. 

Tony runs his fingers faintly over the small wounds his claws ripped open. “I’m sorry, darling. Are you alright?”

Unbothered, Peter smiles mischievously. ”Can we do that again?”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> next chapter will be the end, I have a few cute plot points I wanna throw in before wrapping up the story :)


	4. 4

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Peter falls into a depression as the knowledge he’s a prisoner weighs on him. Tony, with a heavy heart, manages to set him free. During the faun’s absence, Pepper swings by with a surprise in tow.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ok. sorry this is so late <\3 I moved a few weeks ago unexpectedly & also this whole virus thing happened. but mostly, I put off posting cuz I didn’t want this to end! funny enough, that caused me to write WAY MORE than necessary... meaning there will be another chapter 🥴

After their first time together, Peter becomes an insatiable minx. Now familiarized with pleasure, he craves it everyday. It shouldn’t be surprising since fauns are typically as hedonistic as any other creature of legend, but Peter doesn’t give off that vibe. Although, maybe his version of overindulgence is gardening and sunbathing. Tony’s mind operates too fast for sloth to be an enjoyable sin. 

One night, after a session of lovemaking, Peter goes to their mossy rock under the guise of retiring. Tony has no interest doing so, despite the hour, because he’s wide awake and busy at his workbench. Peter’s caressing the scales near the end of his tail soothingly. The touch is pleasant but monotonous, easy to forget it’s even happening until the naga feels the tip enter something warm and tight. 

Tony turns around to discover the naughty faun bent over, plunging the naga’s tail into his ass with a low whine. They lock eyes as Peter coaxes it farther inside, wet mouth falling open to form a pleasured ‘o’ face. 

Within their sheath, Tony can feel his hemipenes quiver in arousal. He scents the air with his tongue. “Could you paint a prettier picture, sweetheart?” he says in awe, slithering over to his mate. 

“I didn’t think you’d notice,” Peter giggles.

“If you waited long enough I probably wouldn’t’ve.” Tony’s not embarrassed to admit his tendency to block out the world when he’s working. “But you couldn’t, could you?”

Shameless, the faun braces his hands on a thick portion of Tony’s tail and pointedly shoves his butt back. “Please.”

Tony smirks. “Hm? What do you want, baby?”

Peter rolls his eyes in exasperation. “Tony,” he drawls. 

“I wanna hear you _ss_ ay it.”

Finally, the faun blushes. His eyes wander while he requests, “Tony, p-please fuck me with your tail.”

Gladly, Tony complies. 

Things are good. For awhile.

Eventually, no matter how many kisses or cuddles Tony gives him, the faun starts to become homesick. It only gets worse as time goes on. Peter stops laughing as much, smiling as much, initiating sex. . . Tony’s still too selfish to do the thing he knows is right, though. He doesn’t want to set Peter free, literally or metaphorically. He wants to keep the faun all to himself, so the naga ignores the problem for as long as he can. 

When Peter stops eating as much as he used to, is  _supposed_ to, Tony can’t delude himself anymore. 

The thought of it brings the naga to tears. Tears! _Him_ ! Peter’s really managed to make a home for himself in Tony’s heart. So, they can’t go on like this. 

Peter doesn’t even ask what Tony’s doing when the naga fetches a small net from their den, just watches apathetically while he fills it with ripe fruit. Tony ties it shut before it’s full because he thinks the weight will be too much for Peter to transport. Reluctantly, he slithers over to the faun and clears his throat. “Peter?”

“Hm?” 

Tony takes a deep breath. “I’m letting you go home today,” he says, managing an even voice.

Confused, Peter looks up at his mate and focuses. “What are you talking about?”

The naga sets down the bag of fruit, not looking Peter in the eye. “I know you miss your herd. It’s been bothering you for a long time now, but I tried to pretend it wasn’t because I wanted so badly to keep you here with me.” Tony swallows hard. “But I love you. I can’t stand to watch you fade away anymore, even if it means. . . Never seeing you again.”

Peter stares at the naga with an open mouth, astounded. “You would let me go?” 

To Tony’s dismay, Peter sounds giddy at the prospect. Of course he wants to see his friends and aunt again, but. Shouldn’t he be a little sad, at least? Would Peter truly not care if he never saw Tony again? Doubts begin swarming the naga’s head.  _Did Peter ever care about me? Was this some sort of elaborate gambit to save his own life?_ If that’s the case, Tony’s been played more thoroughly than a fiddle. “Yeah.”

Moving with more energy than he’s displayed the last few days, Peter shoots to his feet and jumps into Tony’s arms. “I thought you never would,” he admits with a relieved laugh, nuzzling the underside of the naga’s neck. 

Tony hugs Peter back tightly, devastated that this will be one of the last times he holds the faun in his arms.  _I promised myself I wouldn’t cry,_ he thinks bitterly.  Peter sure _isn’t_.

Pulling back enough that they’re face-to-face, Peter cups Tony’s jaw and smiles widely. “I have missed my herd. I’ve missed Aunt May, Ned, MJ. . . But that isn’t the reason why I’ve been so down lately, Tony.”

Nonplussed, Tony asks, “What’s. . . What’s the matter, then?” If missing his herd isn’t the problem, then Peter’s leaving him for no good reason! The naga wishes he could retract his offer. 

“I’ve fallen in love with you.”

Tony just grows more hurt, which translates into defensive. He pushes Peter away, glaring. “I’ve already told you that you can leave. You don’t need to make fun of me.” The naga smacks his tail against the bag of fruit, making it roll closer to Peter. “That’s for the road.” He pivots, ready to storm off before he does or says something he’ll regret. 

“W-Wait!” 

Tony stops, pinching the bridge of his nose. He doesn’t turn around, though, forcing the faun to speak to his back.

“You need to let me explain.” Tony remains quiet. “I meant. . . I fell in love with you. But I didn’t know if you felt the same. In fact, I  _knew_ you didn’t, because I couldn’t leave. Even if you didn’t treat me as such, at the end of the day, I was your prisoner. It made me really sad, thinking about how I loved you and wanted you to be happy when I knew you didn’t want the same for me.” Peter’s voice breaks as he holds back tears. 

Understanding, Tony approaches the faun and intertwines their hands. “I  _do_. I do love you.”

Peter hiccups through a sob, flashing a watery smile. “I know you do. You love me enough to set me free.”

Tony’s brown eyes tears burn and he laughs without humor. “I’ve always hated that saying.”

The faun squeezes Tony’s fingers, sniffling. “You big dummy,” he says, “I’m not going to leave you. I just wanted the knowledge that you’d let me.”

Tony blinks too hard, allowing a single tear to escape. He wipes it away swiftly, trying to play it off. “O-Oh. . .” 

Peter giggles, standing on the tips of his hooves so he can give the dumb naga a well-deserved smooch. They kiss passionately for a few moments before breaking apart to breathe. “ _But_ ,” the faun says, “I do want to go see Aunt May.” 

“Well.” Tony looks down at the bag of fruit. “I did already pack.”

Neither of them know the complete route back to Peter’s herd, so it’s a mutual effort to navigate the forest and retrace Peter’s steps. Although he has two perfectly functional, fuzzy legs, the faun somehow ends up convincing Tony to carry him like a princess. 

“You never did tell me, why were you crying when I found you out here?” Tony asks curiously once they reach the dense area he met Peter in. 

“Oh,” Peter laughs. “It’s so silly. I had, um. Well, during mating season, fauns give each other presents for courtship. I had gotten a lot of flowers, but it turned out to be a mean joke.”

Tony frowns. “You mean somebody was messing with you?” 

Hearing the anger in the naga’s tone, Peter kisses him tenderly. “Yeah, but it doesn’t matter now. You didn’t even give me any presents, but I couldn’t ask for a better mate.” 

The naga preens. “I didn’t realize I was supposed to.” Tony is about to say more when he’s interrupted by Peter scurrying out of his arms and towards the clearing in front of them. 

“We’re really close!” Peter stops to address Tony. “You should wait right here until I come back. I’m familiar with this area.” He’s so excited to see Aunt May and everyone else! They’ll be so happy he’s alive! 

Tony sighs dramatically. “I’m going to die of boredom,” he whines, finding a good spot to lay down. “I don’t have anything to do.” 

“I’m sure you’ll find something to pass the time.” Rolling his eyes, the faun takes the fruit with a labored grunt and starts to head towards the field Aunt May and him usually occupied. “Could you have stuffed this anymore, jeez!”

Seeing the herd again, all of them idling about lazily, is surreal. This has been his home his entire life, so why does he feel like an interloper? 

Once he’s only a few yards out, the other fauns notice him and gawk. Rightfully so, they’re flabbergasted. He hears a few astounded  _Peter?_ s among the crowd, but he’s on a mission to find May, so Peter ignores them.

At a distance, Peter spots his aunt sitting by herself on a eroded boulder, looking out into the trees blankly. In his excitement, he walks faster before breaking out into a full sprint. “May!” he yells. 

The woman whips around with wide eyes, absolutely stupefied when she sees her missing nephew barreling towards her. “ _Peter_?” she cries, putting a hand over her mouth. 

Peter haphazardly drops the bag of fruit so that he can toss his arms around his aunt. They embrace emotionally. May starts crying, which makes Peter cry, so they’re both just one big mess.

May eventually has the strength to unwrap her arms around Peter, cupping his face. “Peter Benjamin Parker, where have you been!” She squeezes his cheeks, voice shrill with equal hysteria and relief. 

Laughing, the young faun pulls her hands away and holds them. “It’s a long,  _long_ story. But I missed you so much.” 

Pulling him to the ground, May wipes her tears away and takes a deep breath. “I don’t care how long it takes, I want to know  _everything_.”

Peter doesn’t tell her everything. He doesn’t lie, just. . . Leaves out a few key details. Like Tony eating him. Well, that’s pretty much the only part he leaves out. Besides their graphic lovemaking. 

“We started heading straight here after that,” Peter finishes recounting the last couple months, nervous. May hasn’t interrupted him once, which is unusual. “That’s pretty much everything.” He looks at his hands, fiddling with them.

May forces herself to calm down, taking a few deep breaths as her nephew’s story sinks in. “You. . . You’re _mated_ to a _naga_?” she whispers in horror. “Oh, Peter.”

Scooting closer, Peter looks her in the eyes. “I know it’s really hard to understand. But I love him, May. I love him so much. And he’s really good to me. I know he loves me, too.” 

Pressing her lips together, the older faun looks uncomfortable and skeptical. “He took you. He stole you away from me, my little baby. . .” May strokes his face lovingly. “I thought—I thought. . .”

“I know, I know,” Peter coos. “But I’m okay. I’m fantastic, actually.”

“You really trust him?” May asks, unbelieving. She’d heard horrifying tales of naga as a young girl, stories about gluttonous beasts with sharp fangs and mile-long tails. Certainly, they must have been exaggerations if her sweet Peter could fall in love with one. 

Peter nods without hesitation. “He’s not that bad of a guy. I think you’d like him.” _That_ may be a stretch, but isn’t that what you’re supposed to say to your ~~momma~~ aunt when you enter a serious relationship? 

May clears her throat, nodding once with a resolute expression. “Well, you said he isn’t too far from here, didn’t you?” 

Tony’s never been this bored in his entire life. 

Of course, he didn’t expect Peter to be back soon, but. That doesn’t change the fact he wishes the faun would speed things along. For someone like Tony, it’s torture to have nothing to do. Perhaps it’s his own fault. In hindsight, he could have easily brought a pen and paper to help pass the time. 

The sound of hooves distracts the naga from continuing his pity party. Tony sits up, cracking his neck. “Peter?” he calls, hoping they’ll be able to go home soon. 

“Tony!” the darling voice of the man himself answers back. Peter steps into view, looking behind himself briefly and mouthing something before trotting over to his mate. “I see you haven’t died yet.”

“No thanks to you,” Tony snorts, greeting the faun with a kiss. “You forgot my net.”

Peter traces the pattern of the naga’s beard affectionately before stepping back. “Maybe. But I did bring someone that I want you to meet.” Tony stiffens, looking over the faun’s shoulder. He doesn’t see anybody. 

“Are you sure?” Tony asks wryly, gesturing towards the empty forest. 

“She’s a little. . . Apprehensive,” Peter admits sheepishly. He takes Tony’s hand and leads him to the tree he knows May is hiding behind. “May, it’s alright. Tony’s not going to hurt anybody.” Nothing. Peter lets go of the naga’s hand to peer around the bark, frowning at his discovery.

May is pressed firmly into the bark, trembling. Her eyes are wide and worried. Her look says,  _Peter, that’s a fucking naga_. And, well, normally that’d be a pretty good point but these are extraordinary circumstances. 

“It’ll be okay, I promise.” He takes her hand slowly, squeezing it to provide assurance. Gradually, Peter is able to steer her away from any coverage and into the clearing where Tony is waiting. 

Tony’s aware that this woman is Peter’s aunt, but she could easily pass for his mother. They have the same delicate features and beauty. Her anxious expression is eerily reminiscent of the one Peter often wore around Tony, before the two mated. Inspiring so much fear in Peter’s family member makes him feel like a monster. Tony’s never realized how much of a monster he is, fundamentally. 

“May,” Peter says delicately. “This is Tony. He’s my mate.” The young faun gestures to thewoman he’s holding hands with. “Tony, this is my aunt, May.”

When it becomes clear May isn’t going to say anything, Tony clears his throat. “Hello, ma’am.”

May looks as if she’s going to faint. Peter pats her back. “I told her all about how you’ve been taking care of me. I told her about how we’ve been building things together and gardening.” 

Nodding awkwardly, Tony looks down to get away from May’s unyielding focus, but he ends up looking at her breasts so he’s forced back to where he started. “Peter’s very sharp,” the naga comments honestly. “I’ve never met someone so bright.”

Finally, the older faun’s stare falters. May swallows, obviously making an attempt to put on a brave face. “Peter’s always been such a smart boy.” She leans into him for support. 

Tony scratches the back of his head. “He is certainly special.” He looks at Peter desperately.  _Help me out here._

“Tony wanted to apologize.” 

Now  that’s a damn lie. The naga shoots his mate a betrayed look. That’s not the segway he was looking for! But now May’s looking at him expectantly. 

“Yeah, of course,” Tony coughs. “I’m so sorry for. . . Taking Peter away for so long. Um.” How can he explain this without sounding awful? “I know you must have missed him greatly.”

May’s voice croaks as she says, “I thought he was dead.”

Tony’s blushing with shame. He’s hoping neither of the fauns notice, but they do, and May actually finds it disarming. What does a naga have to blush about? Tony must be genuine, otherwise he wouldn’t think so highly of her. You have to hold someone to a certain esteem in order to care about looking bad in front of them. 

“I’ve been taking care of him,” Tony says vaguely, falling back on what Peter remarked earlier. The naga isn’t exactly sure  what Peter told her. 

“And now you’re giving him back?” May asks hopefully. 

Tony’s eyes dart to Peter.  _You didn’t tell her?_

“Um.” Peter looks caught off guard too, as if he hadn’t been delaying but sincerely forgot to mention he was only visiting. “Actually, May, I just wanted to let you know I was okay. I live with Tony now.”

May squeezes her nephew’s hand fiercely. She doesn’t need to say anything for them to understand she’s less than happy about that. 

Peter sighs. “He’s my mate now—“

“He’s a  _naga_!” She snaps like a rubber band, suddenly gutsy enough to insult Tony but still too scared to stop shaking. “He kidnapped you and now you’re telling me you want to run away with him!” 

“We have a home together, May. With flowers and bees and peach trees,” Peter attempts to explain, wanting desperately for her to be happy for them. “Every night we cuddle together on this uncomfortable rock but it doesn’t even matter because Tony’s tail is so big I don’t even touch the ground. When we wake up we go outside to gather fruit and tend to the garden. That is, if I’m not exhausted from him keeping me up all night! He’s worse than a child when it comes to going to bed, you know. I have to tear him away from whatever he’s working on every night because he’s a workaholic and an insomniac and—“ Peter stops to take a breath, looking at his mate. “And sometimes he snores really loudly.”

Tony gasps. “I do  _not_ snore!” he denies. 

Peter shakes his head. “You make the same sound as that engine I made you throw away!”

May hugs herself, a small smile on her face after witnessing the exchange. Tony notices, hopeful she’s coming around, when an idea pops in his head. It’s a good idea, as it’s his, but not one he likes. It’s necessary, though. 

“May?” Her head jolts up at Tony. He soldiers on, offering, “I know this is a lot to take in all at once. It probably feels like you’ve just gotten Peter back and now you’re losing him again. And while I have no intention of keeping him away from you, I can see that it’d be a good idea if Peter stayed with you for a few days.” 

More than impressed with Tony’s compromise, Peter agrees, “That sounds really nice. I haven’t even seen Ned or MJ yet.” 

Tony wants to kiss Peter goodbye, but he’s positive that May wouldn’t appreciate the sight. “How about I come back in three days?”

“Four,” May states.

The naga swallows, nodding with quick, jerky motions. “Sure, four’s great, too.” 

Peter laughs, tiptoeing over to peck Tony on the cheek. “Thank you,” he whispers into his ear sweetly. 

“I’ll meet you back here when the sun’s halfway across the sky, okay?” 

The young faun is already being dragged away by May, but looks back to holler, “I’ll see you then!”

Peter isn’t gone two seconds before Tony starts missing him.

Tony has no idea how he survived without Peter. The den is so cold and lifeless without him. It’s always been more of a workshop than a home, but with Peter, it became a home. 

He takes advantage of the first day by going out to find something to eat. Unfortunately, it takes a long time before he runs across anything. . . Substantial. But, eventually, he does. 

Sluggish, because he’s been hunting for awhile, the naga decides to rest for a moment on a precipice looming only a foot above a sparkling body of water that’s more than large enough to be considered a lake. Tony folds his arms and looks out at the water, thinking maybe he’d be better off fishing, when he hears a quiet laugh. 

Tony rolls over to hide his upper body under a fern, peeking out to search for the source of the voice. His tongue darts out, but all he smells is fish. 

“Bucky!” 

Looking to his right, Tony spots two people in the water a few feet away, hugging each other. He licks his lips, optimistic. 

“Whoa,” one of them says, pressing a finger against the other’s lips. “What happened to being quiet, doll?” He’s brunette and broad-shouldered, although missing an arm. 

“It’s hard to be quiet when you’re doing. . .  _That_ ,” replies the smaller of the two bashfully. He’s alarmingly slender, with wet blond hair and visible ribs. “Maybe I underestimated our privacy.” 

The brunette purrs. “I knew you’d come around, Stevie.” 

It looks as if they’re going to get down to business, which isn’t what Tony’s here for but he wouldn’t mind staying to watch, when another head pops out of the water. Her appearance startles the two lovebirds. 

“Hey, what’s the big idea?” Bucky asks, clearly annoyed. Steve’s hiding his red face from the intruder. 

“James, don’t think I’m covering for you when you’re all the way out here playing hooky,” the woman scoffs. “You could’ve at least told me you wouldn’t be showing up today!” 

“And saved you the trouble of following us? Nah,” Bucky laughs, biting his thumb at her playfully. He must grab something of Steve’s underneath the water, because the blond squeals out of nowhere. “Now buzz off, can’t you see we’re busy?”

The woman shakes her head. “I don’t think so. It’s a two mer shift, not a—“

“You take this way too seriously,” Bucky sighs. He gives Steve a kiss before swimming over to the woman. “This won’t take long, doll. Can you just wait for me here while I slave away for this wretched sea witch? Ow!” He rubs the back of his head where the woman’s just smacked him. 

Steve glances around timidly. It appears as if he looks directly at Tony, but he must not actually see the naga because he doesn’t react. “I should probably just hang out with you guys at the shop. . .”

“No, no, I’ll be done in no time, okay? Let’s not let this ruin our day off.”

“You don’t have the day off!” the woman squawks, carding her fingers through her thick brown hair in exasperation. 

Bucky winks at Steve. “Just wait for me here, okay, doll?” 

The blond nods, conceding. “Alright. Bye, Peggy.” 

Tony watches Peggy and Bucky dive into the water, two dazzling tails following behind them. His eyes widen. Mermaids! He’s never encountered a mermaid before.  Hm. _I wonder if they taste like fish_ _._

Although he agreed to wait, the small mermaid seems rightfully cautious of his surroundings. And considering he’s aquatic, Tony has the odds stacked against him if he tries to catch the blond. It’d probably be a good idea to cut his losses and head home, but without Peter, it’s not like Tony has anything better to do. 

Steve must get bored of treading in the small spot. He swims over to a eroded section of rock to sunbathe. The mermaid’s tail is a dazzling ombre of red, white, and blue. Tony’s always considered his tail magnificent, but Steve’s is very gaudy, especially since it’s attached to a seemingly malnourished creature. 

Remaining hidden, Tony maneuvers his tail closer and closer to the mermaid. Steve is looking a different direction, but he could turn around any moment and notice the suspicious snake tail wiggling closer to him. The thrill of the hunt makes Tony’s mouth water. An animalistic part of him is glad he’s able to still enjoy such activities even though his mate is technically prey. 

Tony’s tail freezes in the air when Steve suddenly starts singing. The melody is very relaxing, almost making the naga lose focus. Luckily for Tony, a siren’s call is not particularly influential to nagas. Shaking his head as to clear it, Tony army crawls closer to the mermaid in preparation. Once he’s at the best feasible vantage point, the naga strikes.

To give him credit, the mermaid puts up a valiant fight once he finds himself wrapped in Tony’s tail. The mermaid struggles and flaps his tail, trying to use his slipperiness to his advantage, but without success. The little rascal even tries his hand at biting Tony’s tail! Thankfully, the mermaid’s sharp teeth do little more than tickle the red scales. 

“Let me go!” Tony squeezes the mermaid tightly in order to daze him, using his leverage to toss Steve onto land. 

As Tony expected, Steve’s mobility is greatly hindered once he hits the grass. He tries desperately to squirm his way back into the lake. Tony allows this for a few moments, finding the sight satisfying, before looping around the mermaid with the intent to kill.

Despite his undeniable disadvantage, Steve never ceases in his scuffling. When Tony gets closer, the mermaid snaps at him wildly. The naga would have never expected such a fighting spirit in a frail body. Amused, Tony tightens his grip experimentally, breaking Steve’s ribs as a result. The mermaid pauses momentarily to scream in pain. 

Mouth watering, Tony cannot wait any longer and unhinges his jaw, a startling sight for the mermaid whose blue eyes widen in fear. Between being so slender and being so wet, Steve is quickly sucked down the naga’s throat and imprisoned in his stomach.

Tony licks his lips, gently falling backwards onto the moist grass.  _Yep, exactly like salmon_. 

In an attempt to distract himself from Peter’s absence, Tony spends the next two days hunched over his workbench. As expected, the process of brainstorming, calculating, and conducting trials is less gratifying without the presence of a certain smart faun. It isn’t necessarily unpleasant, but Tony is hyperaware something is missing. 

Tony’s thanking himself up and down that he listened to his heart and spared Peter. With Peter gone, the naga is experiencing what it would have been like if he hadn’t. Of course, Peter isn’t dead, much less by his hand. Or stomach. Anyway, Tony’s glad he’s finally done something right in his life.  _Absence really does make the heart grow fonder_ , he muses.

A breeze blows into the den. Tony flicks out his tongue thoughtlessly, taken by surprise when he tastes a familiar scent. The naga leaves the prototype he was staring at in favor of peeking outside. Situated a few feet from the cave’s mouth is Pepper. Tony brightens, slithering over to greet her. 

Before any words can leave his mouth, however, Pepper raises a brow and smiles. “Look at you,” she laughs. “Normally I have to fight for your attention.” Pepper usually visits when Tony is preoccupied with tinkering, meaning she has to put a lot of effort into gaining his notice. 

Tony embraces her guiltily, mindful of the cloth-covered package she’s carrying. He rubs the back of his neck when they part. “It’s been awhile since you’ve came here,” he offers.

As it’s getting dark, Tony wordlessly escorts Pepper inside his den. The two nagas arrange themselves comfortably among the rock. While he would have some time ago, Tony makes no effort to push aside any of his hobbies for Pepper’s benefit. Not to say there isn’t enough room for the both of them, but for the principle of it.

“Since when do you garden?” Pepper asks, amused. Peter’s flowerbed must have caught her eye. 

In no way is Tony ashamed of Peter, but he hesitates to explain. It isn’t like she would go around telling every predator she comes across. And, despite their history, Tony knows she wouldn’t be upset or jealous. At worst, she’d think he’d finally gone insane. “You know me, always picking up projects,” he answers dismissively. 

Pepper squints a bit but otherwise lets it rest. Her expression turns thoughtful. “Don’t I,” she sighs.

Tony sighs, too. His eyes fall away from Pepper and onto the package she’d brought with it. He gestures to it inquisitively. “What brings you?” he asks.

Her mood seems to lighten up. “It really has been awhile since we’ve properly spoken,” she remarks, making reference to their last visit. Tony shivers at the pleasant memory but grows anxious with the thought that Pepper may initiate something intimate. He’s not an unfaithful or polyamorous man, and even if he was, he wouldn’t have sex with someone without Peter’s approval. “What’s been keeping you busy?”

Thinking of Peter, Tony grins. Pepper looks at him curiously. On a whim, he decides to tell her everything. 

The sun has long set by the time Tony’s done recounting the last few months, only pausing to turn on the lights he’s recently installed. She shakes her head in response, but she’s smiling. “I must admit, if a naga were to do something like that, it’d be you.” She looks down. “And here I thought you’d be here dying of loneliness.” 

Tony huffs. “I might as well be. I hate being away from him, evidently.” 

“It is too bad he isn’t here,” Pepper agrees. “I would love to meet him. He must be some faun to peek  your interest.”

“He really, really is.” Tony smiles silently to himself for a few moments before glancing back at Pepper. She’s staring at the package again, a pensive look on her face as she glides her hand down the side of it slowly. 

Tony groans childishly in an attempt to lighten the mood. “Pep, seriously. What the hell is in there? You’re killing me here!”

Pepper snakes her fingertips under the cloth covering. “I’m really happy for you, Tony,” she says honestly. “I always tried to make it work with you, but I’ve long accepted that we’ll never have anything more than a deep friendship and. . . Erm,  sexual chemistry.” 

The mention of their sexual compatibility has always been a sore spot for Tony because they’ve known each other for years, had mated countless times, yet his seed has never taken. As a male, that really damages his pride. During sex she often compliments his physique and intellect. She wants his genetics for her clutch, which is why they continued screwing even after establishing they should just be friends. But somehow, Tony has never been able to give her that. 

Tony crosses his arms defensively. “Sexual chemistry, sure,” he scoffs. “But certainly not sexual  _compatibility_. We both know you won’t be missing out on much now that I’m off the market.” 

“Oh, your poor ego!” Pepper teases. “That’s actually the reason I’m here tonight, to put your impotence fears to rest.” 

Tony furrows his brow, confused. When the words sink in, he nearly stops breathing altogether at the implications. His eyes dart rapidly back and forth between the package and Pepper’s smug face. “ _Really_?” he whispers, cautiously hopeful.

Pepper isn’t cruel enough to make him wait any longer. She delicately removes the cloth, revealing a large egg. Tony’s breath catches in shock. Of all the possibilities that ran through his mind, he never would have expected. . . 

“I have the other three being watching over,” she murmurs. Tony scoots closer so he can touch the egg. Once the reality of the situation sets in, he laughs joyfully.

“I’ll be damned.” 

The shell is malleable, although hardy, under Tony’s fingers. As he pushes gently against it to test its durability, Tony swears he feels whatever is inside press back. His eyes burn as pride and affection overruns his pounding heart. 

Tony is quiet for awhile, thoughtlessly admiring the egg, _the egg he helped create._ “How long until it hatches?”

Pepper hums, head tilting side-to-side thoughtfully. “Maybe a week or two. I wanted to make sure it was viable before bringing it over.”

“Why did you?” Tony carefully gathers the egg into his arms, encasing it protectively. 

“I had thought you might benefit from some company,” Pepper explains. “I might not have if I’d of known about your faun.”

Pepper’s tone gives away her newfound reluctance to hand over the egg. The baby naga will not understand why it’s father is keeping around a faun, as it will rely on it’s instincts before higher thought begins to develop.

The same thoughts flicker in Tony’s head, but he’s more optimistic. “It won’t be an issue,” he assures more or less immediately, making Pepper roll her eyes. To her, Tony is gratingly impulsive. However, if there  _are_ any issues, it will be at Peter’s expense, so Pepper doesn’t argue further. Besides, with Tony, she’s learned long ago that disagreeing won’t get her anywhere. 

Yawning, Pepper makes herself comfortable in the den. She falls asleep hoping that their clutch didn’t inherit Tony’s foolhardiness. Tony spends the night sleepless, cuddling the egg with an elated smile splitting his face. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> yay! more characters! what’d u think bout that hm?? 💜


	5. Chapter Five

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Peter is over the moon at the prospect of having a little baby to take care of, but Tony’s having second thoughts. Are they really ready to take on this challenge?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> this feels like an epilogue more than a chapter to me, but 🤷🏼♀️ i don’t have anything more to say when it comes to this universe. hope you enjoyed this story!

Tony had no doubts in his mind that Peter would take lovingly to the egg, but, nevertheless, the faun’s reaction is surprising. He acts no differently than an excited parent would, despite the fact the egg isn’t a product of his own loins.

“I must admit,” Peter begins softly one night, hands rubbing the egg with reverence, “I imagined naga eggs being larger.” The egg is approximately the size of Peter’s torso. It is no runt, but Tony’s seen bigger shells, regardless of the actual baby naga’s size. 

Ruffling Peter’s fluffy hair, Tony shrugs. “It seems to me that size is relatively random.” 

Peter laughs, the joyful sound reverberating off the walls. “Relatively. . .” he parrots, voice soft and playful. “You say ‘relatively’ when you have no clue what you’re talking about.”

At the accusation, Tony is unable to suppress a grin. “Whatever.” The naga gestures to his left, motioning towards his workbench. “Not really my area of expertise.” 

The egg suddenly wiggles, making Peter gasp. “Wait!” he huffs, both hands on the shell. “We haven’t decided your name yet.” 

Watching the egg sway back and forth, Tony suddenly feels like he’s been splashed with a bucket of ice cold water. They aren’t ready. It can’t hatch yet. _Tony_ isn’t ready to be a father. 

Thankfully, the egg stops moving, and there are no cracks on the shell. Tony lets out a breath he didn’t realize he’d been holding. _Fuck_ , the naga thinks, _what the hell am I going to do when it’s actually here?_

“—sort of a strange choice, but it’s so pretty! Don’t you think so?” 

Tony is staring off into the dense forest, expression neutral. Peter’s brows furrow in response before evening out again. He rolls his eyes. “Tony?” He repeats his mate’s name a few times before the naga jolts out of his headspace. 

“What?” 

Instead of bickering at him for not listening, Peter takes on a concerned tone of voice. He reaches out to rub Tony’s shoulder.“Hey, hun? Are you doing okay? You haven’t really been acting yourself.” 

Not one to discuss his feelings often, the naga pulls on a fake smile and plays it off. “Oh, really? No, I’ve been great. There’s nothing wrong.”

Peter takes a deep breath, trying to be patient. Tony is a complicated man. Sometimes, the faun is forced to call upon his detective skills if they want to get anything accomplished. Peter thinks hard about what could be bothering the naga. _What’s changed?_ he wonders. 

Eventually, Peter’s brown eyes fall upon the little eggie nestled between his fuzzy legs. Tony’s change of mood has to somehow be related to the egg, but. . . Shouldn’t the naga be excited? Elated? Why is he withdrawn and pensive instead? Well, that’s a question for Tony to answer. 

“You’re nervous about the baby,” Peter suggests, watching Tony’s face for any changes. 

Sure enough, the naga’s expression falls. He sighs deeply. When no words leave his lips, Peter moves his hand so that it’s holding Tony’s. “Why don’t we start with ‘I feel’?” Tony scoffs in a dismissive manner, remaining silent.Peter persists. “Okay, grumpy, I’ll start. I feel. . . I feel like you’re nervous about taking care of the baby, but I’m not sure why.” 

Tony squeezes Peter’s hand. “I feel. . . Unprepared, I guess.” Once he gets going, the words keep pouring out. “I never expected I’d have this opportunity. I never expected to _want_ this opportunity. I don’t know how to do this. I just build stuff.”

Peter smiles comfortingly. “Tony, can I let you in on a little secret?” The naga glances at him curiously. “I have no clue how to proceed with this either. A year ago I was expecting to spend the rest of my life with the Herd. And now, all _this_. It’s frightening. But it’s also very exciting. I need you to know that I’m with you every step of the way. We’ll figure things out together.” 

Reassured, Tony wraps around Peter affectionately, encasing both his mate and offspring with his tail. He takes a shaky breath, whispering into Peter’s hair, “Alright, sweetheart.”

Not three hours after their heart-to-heart, the egg starts moving sporadically. Peter holds Tony’s hand tightly as they watch with bated breath. The appearance of a large crack down the side of the shell makes them both flinch. 

Peter instinctively wants to help the baby make it’s way out, but he’s stopped by Tony, who instinctively knows that the baby needs to do it by itself. 

After what feels like ages, a plump baby arm manages to pierce through the shell’s exterior. Peter fights the urge to touch it. Tony grins in amusement when he realized how far the little thing is trying to escape. 

The baby naga’s head finally pops out, creating a large enough hole for the rest of it—her—to come tumbling out and onto her father’s coiled tail. With the cave’s lighting, it’s hard to tell where the baby ends and Tony starts, as they both have the same red hot colored tail. 

Peter wants so badly to hold her, but feels that Tony should have the honors first. “Let’s have a look at her,” the faun exclaims with excitement, gesturing for Tony to scoop her up.

Doing just that, Tony clumsily positions the baby in his arms. She’ll need a bath at some point in the near future, as she’s covering in a slick substance. 

She isn’t crying or anything, just cooing happily in her father’s arms. Tears fill Tony’s eyes. She’s so, _so_ beautiful. 

Peter shares his mate’s opinion, grinning ear to ear. “She’s gorgeous, Tony,” he whispers, feeling her soft skin. “Slimy, but gorgeous.”

Tony laughs, heart surging with pride and affection. “My baby girl.” He kisses her forehead. “Who might you be, hm?” The naga tries to recall even one of Peter’s tolerable name suggestions, but his overemotional mind fails him. “What do you think, Petey?”

Humming thoughtfully, Peter tickles the baby’s cute tummy. She squeals in delight, showing off her pink gums. Peter’s surprised her fangs haven’t grown in yet. “Definitely a Morgan.”

Looking down at her sweet, chubby face, Tony agrees. “It’s perfect.” He absentmindedly snakes his tail around Peter. The faun doesn’t fight back, easily looping his arms around Tony’s neck so that all three of them are cuddling closely. Tony closes his eyes and sniffles, knowing in his heart that everything is going to work out just fine. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Want to support me and my strange AUs? Find me here: https://ko-fi.com/brainfood

**Author's Note:**

> oh no! Poor petey. Lemme know what you think below! <3


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